Hidden Empire (50 page)
Jora’h swallowed hard, considering how he worked to maintain his popularity, watching the Ildiran people amuse themselves,
reveling in the glory of their empire. He had a good heart, but perhaps he
was
far too naive.
Although his brother the Dobro Designate was always grim and preoccupied with schemes, now Jora’h realized that perhaps his
brother understood far more than he himself had guessed. Jora’h wondered how many other dark secrets the Mage-Imperator was
keeping from him, though he would learn everything on the terrible day when he took the reins of
thism
in his grasp.
Rattled, the Prime Designate backed away from the chrysalis chair, hoping the audience was over. “Let me think on this, Father.”
“You must understand the truth, my son. As the next Mage-Imperator, you will have to make certain decisions that are cruel
and heartless. But you will make them because they are ultimately the best choice for our people.”
“I… understand, Father. Intellectually, I have known that for many years. But still, my heart has trouble understanding this
difficult news.”
The Mage-Imperator’s pasty face shifted, his expression becoming one of honest concern. “One last thing: You have heard about
the strange attack on the moons of the new star the humans ignited?”
“Yes, they claim it was the work of some powerful aliens. But how can that be? Besides the humans, we have encountered no
other living civilization in all our history. Unless you believe the legends of the Shana Rei, but I always thought those
creatures of darkness were just a story from before the Lost Times.”
The Mage-Imperator said, “If a tale is recorded in the
Saga of Seven Suns
, then it must bear at least a foundation of truth.” He frowned again. “But no, my son, this is not the work of the Shana
Rei. In addition to the attack on Oncier, these new enemies have also destroyed Roamer ekti-processing plants on Golgen and,
most recently, on Erphano.”
“Other attacks? Are we in danger?” The Prime Designate reeled with all the strange and terrifying things he had learned this
day.
The Mage-Imperator’s voice grew absolutely sincere with its dreadful message. “Without question, the Ildiran Empire—indeed
every living thing in the Spiral Arm—is entering a very serious crisis. No one can anticipate just how grave this situation
may become.”
T
hen the Klikiss robot Jorax appeared at the Whisper Palace to demand an audience with King Frederick, his request caused an
extraordinary stir. Palace guards marched out of their sheltered alcoves, and royal advisers scrambled to decide what to do.
From Hansa headquarters, Basil Wenceslas pondered his official response. He finally withdrew the old Teacher compy
OX from his training sessions with Prince Peter and dispatched him to wait beside the black alien machine.
“I have been instructed to keep you company.” Only half as tall as the big beetlelike robot, the compy stood newly polished
and cleaned, his voice modulated to a new depth. He remained at attention, assessing and analyzing the Klikiss machine. OX
was designed to learn, absorbing information and memories at every opportunity, though his mental core was already so full
from centuries of personal experience that he had little room for anything new.
“I will wait here as long as necessary,” Jorax said. “Years mean nothing to us.”
After William Andeker’s “techno-dissection” debacle, security guards had cut their way into the sealed cybernetics laboratory,
where they found the computer scientist dead, the laboratory ruined, and all data recordings erased. The Klikiss robot had
stood calmly in the center of the room, motionless.
When Jorax finally spoke, his words had been brief. “The human scientist meddled with my circuits, despite my warnings not
to do so. He inadvertently triggered an autonomic self-defense subroutine, with unfortunate and deadly results. I do not accept
responsibility for the harm he brought on himself.”
Given the sparse evidence, investigators had little choice but to believe the robot’s version of events. Security had increased
around Jorax, and surveillance monitored him more vigorously, but the alien robot had done nothing for several days. Until
now, when he’d made his demand at the Whisper Palace.
“It is imperative that I speak with your King.”
OX seemed to intrigue the Klikiss robot. Jorax studied the small-statured Teacher compy, scanning him with scarlet optical
sensors. OX waited, patient, and finally Jorax said, “You are a different sort of robot, made by humans.”
OX said, “I have been functional for three-and-a-quarter centuries. I served aboard the first human generation ship. After
our alliance with the Ildirans, I returned to Earth to act as a Teacher and reservoir of data.”
“You are a statesman for compies?” Jorax asked.
“I speak for the humans, my masters. I have been present during the reigns of all six Great Kings of Earth.”
Jorax paused, assessing. “Such time spans are insignificant compared to the lives of Klikiss robots.”
“True,” said OX, “but I question the relevance of such a perspective, since you have retained no detailed memories.”
OX found that puzzling and disheartening. Memories from his long lifetime filled his circuits, and he was distressed to imagine
how much data and insight had been lost from the vanished civilization. If robots such as Jorax could never remember, then
the Klikiss race was truly lost for all time.
“How many of your fellow robots have been found and reactivated in the past five centuries?” OX asked.
Jorax remained silent, as if calculating. “Approximately fifty thousand.”
OX filed away the information. “That exceeds my estimate. I believe the Hansa is unaware of that number.”
“They have only to count,” Jorax said, “but few humans bother to distinguish between our individuals. And the Ildirans pay
little attention to us. They say we are not part of their story.”
Standing in the arched promenade that led into King Frederick’s Throne Hall, they watched well-dressed functionaries and courtiers
hurrying about their business, all of them staring at the two mismatched robots. Security guards remained prominent, no longer
hidden, keenly watching Jorax.
The contemplative Klikiss robot said, “Bear in mind, that once there were billions of us, before the … disaster. Does the
number of Klikiss robots intimidate you, or surprise you?”
“I merely find it interesting,” OX replied.
When the functionaries and bureaucrats finally finished their discussions and reached a decision, OX looked up to see the
primary reception guardsman stride out of the Throne Hall. The guard clasped a ceremonial staff in his hand.
“King Frederick graciously grants an audience to the Klikiss robot Jorax.” The man paused, looking uncomfortable. “We are
unfamiliar with the weapons systems within your body core. As the recent death of Dr. Andeker has proved, a Klikiss robot
can indeed be dangerous. However, despite the potential risk to his royal person, the King has agreed to hear your words.”
He pointed his staff at the black exoskeleton. “Be warned that your every move will be monitored. Our security guards will
respond to any threatening action with a full and merciless retaliatory strike. Don’t give us an excuse. Is this understood?”
“Klikiss robots have done nothing to foster such suspicion. Nevertheless, your conditions are acceptable to me. I intend no
harm to your King.” The insectoid robot advanced across the polished floor into the opulent Throne Hall.
Old Frederick wore crimson robes, a crown of jewels and prismatic flatgems atop his gray head. He leaned forward with hard
but curious eyes. OX had observed humans long enough to recognize a masked but distinct expression of fear on the King’s face.
No one knew what to expect from the alien machine.
With his smooth, caterpillarlike gait, Jorax moved forward and stopped a respectful distance in front of the raised throne.
No one seemed to know how to announce this alien visitor or what protocol to follow. Finally, the King spoke in a voice that
cracked embarrassingly in the middle. “I have never had the opportunity to meet a Klikiss robot face-to-face.”
Jorax hummed and raised himself up as he extended his sets of flexible telescoping legs. “I must deliver an important message
to the Great King of the Terran Hanseatic League from the Klikiss robots.”
All ears in the Throne Hall pricked up. Cameras rolled, and OX knew that every word would be analyzed and debated, with experts
trying to determine any relevant information about the mysterious beetlelike machines.
Jorax spoke loudly in his buzzing voice. “Until such time as our forebears and creators, the Klikiss, return, we robots are
the sole representatives of that ancient powerful civilization. We have contributed to the exploration of our ancient ruins
and have participated in many difficult construction activities, because we are curious about your methods. We have never
caused a human harm, nor have we ever given you reason to fear us.
“However, the recent attempt to disrupt my physical integrity has shed light on disturbing attitudes toward us. Klikiss robots
are rare creations. We value our existence as much as humans do. Therefore, the Klikiss robots demand to be treated as a sovereign
species.”
King Frederick sat back, taken by surprise. “That is not an unreasonable request, Jorax, but what… what has prompted this
after so long? You, personally, have been here on Earth for several years, as I understand.”
The red optical sensors flashed. “Your cybernetic scientist, Doctor William Andeker, attempted to do grievous harm to my body.
He wished to dismantle and study my components, without my permission. Such an assault could be construed as an act of war
against the Klikiss civilization. I wish to ensure that such brutal attacks do not occur again.”
A gasp rippled throughout the hall. King Frederick flushed, raising both hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Now, let us not
be hasty! That was an ill-advised and unauthorized action by a single person, we can all agree. The death of Dr. Andeker has
given us all a sufficient reminder that we should leave you and your companions in peace.”
“Correct,” Jorax said. “Our internal systems contain dangerous automatic systems we cannot control. The Klikiss installed
them within us, for their own reasons.” He scanned the Throne Hall briefly. “But we have observed how humans treat their robots.
We have noted your apathy toward the sentient machines you call compies.”
Standing at the back of the Throne Hall, OX was fascinated. He watched every movement in the audience.
King Frederick tried to make an excuse. “Our compies are not as sophisticated as Klikiss robots, Jorax. They are certainly
not your equals. They are machines, mobile devices with implanted information systems, constructed solely for our convenience.
They are not… life forms.”
“That is a matter to be debated at another time,” Jorax said. “Do not make the error of viewing Klikiss robots as disposable
mechanical puppets like your compies. We are individuals, with life spans of millennia. No human has a right to command us—or
vivisect us.”
“Oh, agreed, agreed,” Frederick said quickly and forcefully. “Allow me to offer my sincerest apologies for the discomfort
you endured. William Andeker acted of his own volition, without the permission or sanction of the Hanseatic League. You may
be assured that it will never happen again.” The King’s face bore a pleading expression.
“All Klikiss robots will be glad to hear this.”
Without any further comment or concessions to diplomatic protocol, Jorax swiveled his body core about. With a flurry of stubby,
articulated legs, he departed from the Whisper Palace.
W
hen he hurried back to camp, thrilled with his discovery, the green priest Arcas was very insistent.
Margaret didn’t want to spend a day away from the main Klikiss city, which she and Louis had by now mapped and surveyed. Working
together but intent on their own projects, they had finally begun to make progress deciphering the architecture and inner
workings of the empty metropolis. She had no intention of being distracted now.
